One Garden at a Time

Note

The sign out front read: " BOOKAYS"

A catholic school girl with years of grammar under my belt, I just had to meet the person who would spell bouquet in such a fun way. 

I road onto the farm and stood there a few minutes. It seemed no one was around. I noticed a hose bell like those at gas stations. I jumped up and down on it a few times. A stout man with a bald head and a ball shaped belly peeked out from one of the greenhouses.

“Who goes there?” he said. 

“Just me, are you hiring?” I said.

“Well that depends, can you pinch a petunia?” he said. 

“I think so, but will they mind?” I said.

He smiled and said: “Come on in here girl” waving me over to the greenhouse. 

I placed my bike down and walked in. It smelled like sweet morning dew and the warmth relaxed my bones. 

He slid over a flat of petunias and said: “Show me what you got girl.”

I pinched the tops and hoped to heaven I was doing it right. 

I finished the flat and slid it back to him and said: “How’s this?”

“Well, you got what it takes. You’re hired!”

He walked me over the table where he kept his cash box and pulled out a dollar. 

He bent down and placed it under the table. 

He said: “Here take it. This is how you get paid, get it?”

He winked. 

“Under the table” I said. 

“Shhhh now don’t go telling anybody that. Be here tomorrow and two more days this week. If it rains, no work, gapish?”

“Sounds good. Thanks!” I said. 

I rode to and from Rejay’s three days a week for almost a year except in the winter. When I relocated twelve miles away I still rode there. They were long days of good work. 

“Follow me over here girl.” Rejay said one day.

I walked behind him. He was four inches shorter than me, most men are, but boy he walked at a good clip. His dog, Tigger, was right on my heels. We’d become close. 

He pointed to a fourteen foot ladder leaning on a large pile of dirt. 

“Climb on up there. I am going to dump stuff in.”

I climbed up and stabilized myself on the top rung of the ladder. He dumped organic matter with a front end loader as I stood there not sure what to do. 

“What are you waiting for girl climb in and stomp it.”

“Really?”  I said. My heart was racing with delight. I am about to be paid to play in the dirt.

I began stomping and soon realized it was not just dirt. It was rotten plants, chicken manure and loaded with worms which are slippery in high volumes.

“Whatever you do don’t step on the worms” he said with a big grin.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry, I think I killed one” I said. 

“I was only kidding girl. Here have a carrot.” 

He tossed me a big one. 

I backhanded it into the pile. 

“Well gee, let me get you another one.” He said tossing one more.

“It’s a snack. I thought you could use some energy while you’re stomp, stomp, stompin’ at the savoy girl”.

He went over to his truck and cranked up the oldies on his radio. 

Chewing away on the carrot I marched around in the steamy slippery compost. It was wonderful. At times I was knee deep in worms. By the time I was done the pile was reduced by one quarter in height and I was pretty tired. I did need that carrot. 

His wife peeked out of the house and said: “What are you making that poor girl do”?

“Come over here little lady, have some lemonade.”

In my attempt to climb down the ladder I missed a step and slid down the pile instead. 

I was concerned that I would be too muddy to join her on the porch. 

“Nothing like a mud bath, huh? Come on over” she said patting the seat next to a glass of lemonade.

I brushed myself off and took my appointed seat.

“I am a retired teacher and I have something for you.”

I was never given gifts on my birthday from my mother without a consequence, so when I received gifts from anyone else, I became very excited. I tried not to show it. 

She went on: “I want you to know I see how much you love to garden and the work you are doing here with Rejay. He likes working with you.”

I was relieved. 

“This book I read to my students, have you read it? It’s called Mrs. Rumphius.”

“No, I haven’t read it.”

“Well let me read it to you now.”

A clump of dirt fell from the cuff of my pants plopped onto the porch and Tigger came over to lay on it while also leaning on my feet. 

Rejay’s wife smiled. 

I listened as she read the story about a woman who traveled the world spreading lupine seeds among the seashore and wherever else she went. I was moved by the warmth in her voice as she read. She finished the story closed the book handed it to me and said:

 “This book belongs to you now. Never underestimate the value of sowing seeds of kindness. Wherever you live plant a garden. It heals everyone who sees it. It can even heal you too when you prepare the place for it.  Even if you have to leave them behind they will be a thing of joy for all who see. Gardens have a way of changing us for the better.”

Tears puddled in my eyes. She handed me a tissue and said:  “Here, wipe.”

Rejay came onto the porch and said: “Did you give it to her?”

“Yes I did.”

“You’re gonna change the world one day girl, one garden at a time.”

Their belief in me watered the seeds that God planted in my heart that have grown into my love of gardening still present today.

Copyright LACE e

He stood six foot three inches tall. He was my Dad’s Uncle Ralph. My grandpa stood five foot four inches tall. He and Uncle Ralph were brothers. One the tallest and one the shortest men of the family. I was six and a half years old the first time Uncle Ralph said:

“Take a seat young lady.”  Pointing to the vinyl covered steel chair. I grabbed the handle pressed a knee on the seam of the seat and climbed up landing with a flop that made the chair hop a little. 

Uncle Ralph raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his papers while still standing behind his desk. His chair swiveled and had arms. 

“Uncle Ralph?” 

“Yes, young lady.”

“How come your chair swivels?”

He sat down, took hold of the arms and spun around once. “Like this?”

My eyes large I leaned forward in awe and almost fell off my seat.

“Yes, like that.”

“Well, because I am the boss.”

“Do you have to be bossy to be the boss? I have been told I am bossy at school.”

“No, to be a good boss, one needs to want to succeed.”

“What does that mean?”

He stood up, turned around and removed a large red book from his bookcase. He placed it on my lap. “Look it up.” 

“Wow, Uncle Ralph, you have your own dictionary. Lucky.”

He smiled. “Find the word success and read 2a and b aloud please.”

I thumbed the pages and found it: “Success 2a. To turn out well b: to attain a desired object or end. ”  {Websters Eighth New Collegiate Dictionary}

“What I desired before I began this business was that it would turn out well. When we want something to turn out well we will succeed.”

“Uncle Ralph, what is it like being a boss of people?”

“I do not see myself as a boss, I see myself as a provider of jobs and opportunity for people. If they wish to work, then they will succeed at obtaining what they desire. Do you see how that works?”

“I think I do. I would like to be successful at selling my potholders.”

I pulled one out of my pocket. It was in a wad, and I liked the colors. 

“I go door to door but no one wants to buy one.”

Uncle Ralph smiled. “Why did you make them?”

“Well, I bought the loom to make them on instead of buying toys. I thought if I could get the moms at the park to buy them, then I could have some money to save and some to buy toys with. Plus, I need a new flag for my bike, but I want to buy it myself. The purple one costs more than the ugly orange one, so I have to buy it myself. No one else will buy it.” 

My feet were swinging from the chair as I spoke. The potholder fell to the floor. 

Uncle Ralph came around his desk and picked it up. He tugged on it and tested it out. He even used it to pick up his phone when it rang. He held up a finger telling me wait. I sat there swinging my legs, my sock drooped a little. 

He hung up and said: “This has a strong weave,  a good grip and feels good in my hands. Have you told the ladies at the park about these features?”

“No, I thought it would sell itself.”

“Nothing ever sells itself. We have to educate our customers about what we are selling. Can you do that?” He handed me a pad of yellow legal paper and a pencil. “Write down what makes this a good potholder.”

I wrote a few lines, while he used his adding machine. 

“Do you have a cash register, too Uncle Ralph?”

“Write down what I told you, young lady.”

I wrote: Potholders- strong, colors to match your kitchen or shake it up with a new color, hand woven, wash well, heat resistant and make it easier to grip stuff in your oven.”

I read it aloud. Uncle Ralph smiled. 

“That’s what they needed to know. But now write down why you are selling them.”

I wrote: I am selling these to save some money, buy my own bike flag in my color of choice, and to buy my own toys.

After reading it aloud I said: “How is that?”

“Perfect. Now go back to all the people you already asked and tell them with a smile why you are selling them and pull your socks up.”

I went home loaded up my wagon with potholders and went door to door with twenty-four potholders. I sold all of them. 

I went to the shop the next week.

Uncle Ralph saw me waved me into to his office and pointed to the chair. This time there was a phone book on it so it was harder to climb on, but I made it. There was an electrician in his office. Once I was seated, he pointed for him to leave and he wheeled a typewriter table over to me. It had paper in it. 

“Would you type for me today?”

“Okay, sure but I am never going to be a secretary.”

“What will you be then?”

“A business owner like you. My dad says one day he might own your business.”

“Your father and his cousins think that because we are family they will just be given the business.”

“They won’t?”

“How did you do with your potholders?”

“I sold them all. Thank you, Uncle Ralph. It worked.”

“Would you give your business to your brother?”

“No way, it wasn’t his idea and he didn’t do anything to help. Just because we’re related doesn’t mean he gets any part of my business.”

“Now do you understand why your father and his cousins will not just be given my business because we are related?”

“Yes, I get it. They can get their own businesses.”

“That’s right, I offer them the training and the experience and they receive pay for a job well done. If they want to become anything else they can decide what that looks like for them.”

“That’s fair. You are a fair boss Uncle Ralph.”

He smiled and pointed to the typewriter while he answered his phone.

I typed one letter at a time: I will be a business owner.

He hung up the phone and pulled my paper out of the typewriter. The black roller whirred. 

“What will your business be?” he said. 

“Well, I am not sure, but I know I will make things and sell them.”

Uncle Ralph smiled. 

“I have something for you.”

“I love presents. What is it?”

I asked pushing the typewriter out of the way I hopped off the chair and the phone book fell to the floor. 

“Do I get use the adding machine today?”

He went to the bookcase and removed his dictionary. He placed it on the yellow legal pad of writing paper. My heart began to race a little. 

“I would like you to have my dictionary. It is important to understand the meaning of things and a lot of answers to your questions are in here. I am also giving you the legal pad and these pens with one red pencil.”

“Wow, thanks Uncle Ralph. I will not stop until it read it cover to cover. Grandpa gave me an encyclopedia. I am going to be busy!"

“I have written some words for you to find. Write them out and we can talk about them next week.”

I read the list of words aloud: “ Negotiate, Business, Success, Responsible, Invest, Honest, Integrity and Steward.”

“These are words I think you need to know to be successful in business.”

“Thanks Uncle Ralph.”

We continued our discussions when we met at the occasional family barbecues, visited his mountain cabin and when I was able to visit him at his shop. His support of my desire to be a business owner someday, when society was confused as to how to handle my interests, has always been a source of validation for me. Our time together was always spent talking shop. I miss him. 

Copyright LACE e